


Carry On

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, fun.
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bipolar Disorder, But it's close enough, Depression, Drugs... Maybe..., Drunkenness, Fighting, M/M, Rape, Songfic, Virginity, Well not really, i think
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 04:10:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/682618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Enjolras.  There’s no ‘new world’.  We aren’t going to change anything at the barricade.  We aren’t—We aren’t shining stars.”</p><p>Enjolras and Grantiare question their faith in the barricade, each other, everything.  Set to "Carry On" by fun.  (And actually happy, if you've read some of my other stuff. I know I put it under rape, but I promise it isn't bad.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carry On

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit I just discovered how to put italics in there. SO PROUD!
> 
> Also includes other fun. songs, like "Some Nights" and "We Are Young".
> 
> It doesn't exactly stay in perfect character, but I don't exactly give a fuck.
> 
> That reminds me, lots of cussing ahead... Stop reading if you don't like it...
> 
> KUDOS, COMMENT, BOOKMARK! I love ya'll. Hopefully you won't be saying I broke your hearts this time.

Well I woke up to the sound of silence  
The cars were cutting like knives in a fist fight

 

I lay in bed with my eyes wide open. Another night went by of not being able to sleep. I stay completely still for a moment to take in the silence. Everything is so calm and so peaceful, especially without Grantaire trying to hump me at the crack of dawn.

Oh shit- Grantaire. “Shit, shit, shit!” I yell as I run downstairs. I grab my coat and have a struggle to get it on. I’m still in boxers and an undershirt, but it doesn’t matter. I need to get to Grantaire.

I fly out the door and try frantically to hail a taxi, to no avail. After a few minutes of frenzied whistling and arm-waving, I finally decide to run for him. Oh god, I hope he’s still at the bar. Last night he was damned wasted, and he didn’t want to go home when I did. He said he’d stay a while longer, and catch a ride with someone else.

“Such a fucking idiot!” I shout to nobody as I run down the street. Cars are rushing past me, and I’m barely avoiding getting hit. The icy wind is cutting like a knife, and the cars pushing the wind in my direction aren’t helping.

Only a block or so left to the bar. I love Grantaire, but he really is a fucking idiot, especially when he’s had too much to drink. Which is all the time.

I stop at the bar and catch my breath for a moment before I throw open the doors and look for him.

 

And I found you with a bottle of wine  
Your head in the curtains  
And heart like the Fourth of July

 

“There you are! You had me damned worried!” I wrap my arms around the man sitting on the floor by the window, hiding in the blue curtains. He has an empty wine bottle in his hands and an equally empty stare. Yet, when I hold him close to me, I feel his heart beating more rapidly than is healthy.

When he doesn’t say anything, I laugh dryly and say, “We have a Les Amis meeting tonight, and I know how you just love those!” Still nothing.

I pull him closer in my arms and cradle his head. Some guy shouts “faggots!” at us, and I don’t even care. I place my hand on Grantaire’s chin and softly kiss his lips. “There’s a new world to be born, and we need you to get there.”

 

You swore and said  
We are not  
We are not shining stars  
This I know  
I never said we are

 

I finally get a reaction from him at this. He looks up at me with eyes bloodshot from crying and says quietly, “Fuck, Enjolras. There’s no ‘new world’. We aren’t going to change anything at the barricade. We aren’t—We aren’t shining stars.” He starts to cry and I kiss him again, more fiercely.

“Yeah, I know. When did I ever say we are?”

“I-I just thought that since…” He’s sobbing even harder now and I stroke his head to quiet him. My fingers drag through his thick curls as he wraps his arms around my waist in tears. “Please, c-carry me home.”

I’m used to him asking me this, so I nod and let him grab around my neck. As I hoist him into my arms, I reel a bit from the smell of wine and brandy. He lets the bottle drop to the floor and shatter.

He’s kissing my neck all the way home. I can’t say I necessarily mind it; the warm feeling of the brandy on my neck is helping to keep the cold away. The kissing slowly begins to stop, and I realize he’s falling asleep. I smile sadly down at him.

When I get to the apartment complex, I have Courfeyrac and Marius buzz us in. I carry Grantaire up the stairs to our room. I place him carefully down on the bed and strip his clothing off of him. I can’t help but feel like I’m taking advantage of him by absorbing his beauty as he sleeps.

 

Though I've never been through hell like that  
I've closed enough windows  
To know you can never look back 

 

I notice that his scars have all mostly faded, as have the bruises from his last fistfight. Some nights, I stay up thinking about all his bad luck. He’s the reason I can’t sleep anymore. His life is a hell, which makes my life a hell. His mornings are spent cutting; mine are spent trying to clean his wounds. His afternoons are spent getting into fights at Les Amis; mine are spent trying to keep peace. His nights are spent out drinking; mine are spent calling it a draw and letting him get wasted against my better judgment. Even if my life will never be as bad as his, I’ve suffered before. And I’ve told him enough times now, “You just have to carry on, and never look back.”

 

If you're lost and alone  
Or you're sinking like a stone  
Carry on  
May your past be the sound  
Of your feet upon the ground  
Carry on

 

So I met up with some friends  
At the edge of the night  
At a bar off 75

 

“Damnit, Grantaire, I’m not taking you to another bar tonight. You’ll just get wasted again. I don’t give a shit if all of our friends will be there, you’re not going.”

“I won’t get wasted. If that’s what it takes, so be it. I’ll just have one shot of whiskey and be done.”

I don’t believe him, but I also don’t feel like arguing. It’s the edge of the night, around 11:30, and I’m too tired to put up much of a fight. I’m also too tired to go to a bar, but I need something to distract me. I’ve been thinking all day about what he said about the revolution being pointless, and he might be right. We’re just a bunch of kids just out of college, pretending like we know how to fight. As he put it, we sure as hell aren’t “shining stars”.

I snap out of my haze when he grabs the keys and kisses me on the cheek. “I’ll see you later!” he smirks as he stumbles out the door, still hungover.

“Wait!” I shout, “I’m coming with you!” I push my way out with him, and we nearly run over Marius and Courfeyrac. The two of them are stumbling, half dressed, and Marius has a trace of seed on his cheek.

Grantaire coughs. “Ew.”

Marius and Courfeyrac start to snicker at us, and Courfeyrac licks the come off of Marius’s face.

“Christ,” I moan, “do you two always have to be a porno?”

“We’ve got virgins over here, Cour!” laughed Marius drunkenly.

Neither of us can protest. I’ve never been with anybody “in bed”, and Grantaire, as hard as he tries, won’t get me to do anything more than kiss with tongue. Grantaire’s slept with women before, but never a man, so I guess he’s a virgin in that respect.

Quickly trying to change the topic, I ask, “Are you guys going to the bar? ‘Cause you already seem pretty wasted.”

“Of course we’re going!”

“Jesus Christ—well, you’d better come with us. You guys shouldn’t be driving. And do you even know where the fuck this stupid bar is?”

“It’s off the 75, wherever the hell that is. Apparently it has great scenery, or something.”

“Damned Jehan, making plans without us so he can see a flower,” Grantaire grumbles, rubbing his temples. He slips a pill out of his pocket and dry swallows it, and I hope to God it was an aspirin. My arm snakes out and grabs him around the waist. I kiss him on the cheek as Courfeyrac and Marius giggle fiendishly. 

“Virrrgiiiins!” yelps Courfeyrac. Grantaire flips him the bird, but I can see he’s blushing. He storms away somewhat discreetly, out to the car, and I chase after him.

“What the hell is wrong, ‘Taire?” I ask him. His face is tear-streaked again, like it was this morning.

“Oh, no. I’m not fucking getting into some cliché ‘let’s-talk-about-Grantaire’s-feelings’. They’re my feelings and not yours for a reason.”

“I love you, and you’re clearly hurt. We need to talk.”

“No, we don’t! We fucking don’t need to talk! I’m fine!”

I lean against the car with a quizzical look on my face. I open my arms for him to come and hug me, but he doesn’t move. He stays about 5 feet away, attempting to glare and cry at the same time. I stand back up, and he starts. “Don’t you fucking come any closer.”

“Jesus, ‘Taire!” I laugh, worriedly. “Bipolar, much?”

And now, without any warning, I’m on the floor. My face is bloody, and my blood is on his fist.

 

And we talked and talked  
About how our parents will die  
All our neighbours and wives 

 

I'm sitting alone at the bar, nursing both my wound and a drink. Everybody else has pulled up to a table, but I don't exactly want to be near Grantaire. Even though my back is turned to them, I can hear laughing and shouting. I can feel Grantaire's eyes on the back of my head.

When the conversation dies down a bit, Joly asks, "How do you think we're all going to die?" Everybody groans, but Eponine says, "Well, one thing's for sure, my dad's going to have my knife in the back of his head if he ever comes back." This gets a resounding cheer, and I smile.

"And we all know Joly's going to die from his disease of the day!" quips Bahorel. Everybody laughs, and I decide to turn around to watch them.

"Cosette will die of shock if she finds that video we made," Courfeyrac jokes to Marius.

" _I will die a convict/Poetry as my crime/Heavy upon my neck/Will fall the axe of rhyme!_ " declares Jehan dramatically, and we all groan.

"Suicide," says Grantaire, and the group falls silent. I look at him, my attention caught. "Or substance abuse, or liver disease. Whichever happens first."

The silence is uncomfortable, people have even started to slip away under the pretense of having to go to the bathroom. I decide to break the silence, to walk up and kiss Grantaire. I'm standing up, when some jerk pushes me back into the bar stool and sits next to me. I recognize him as part of 'Ponine's dad's gang, but I don't know which one. He's wearing sunglasses. In a fucking bar, the dick.

"I've been watching you," he murmurs to me. "I don't like that scar. Did Grantaire give it to you?" I feel uncomfortable as he brushes away my hair to place his hand on my face. "It messes with your natural beauty." He doesn't move his hand away. Glancing over to the table, I see Grantaire staring at us, sipping bitterly on an absinthe. Shit, I'm going to have to deal with drunk Grantaire after this? The sunglasses' hand begins to move its way to my mouth and places two fingers in my mouth, then kisses me forcefully.

I try desperately to push him away, but it doesn't work. He's stronger than I am. His tounge is feeling its way around in my mouth, and one of his hands has found its way to my crotch. The other grabs my shirt and begins to drag me from the bar stool to the door.

I find myself in the piercing cold, not entirely sure what's happening. All I know is that his hands are making quick work at getting my pants off of me, and I can't do anything to stop it.

I hiss as the cold air hits my already-hard cock. The sunglasses' fingers wrap around it. I whimper as he starts to work his hand up and down it. He's clearly done this before. _Shit._ I think. _So I don't lose my virginity to Grantaire? I lose it to some douche in an alley?_ I realize he's going down. Any second now, I'll feel the warmth of his mouth.

"Hey!" I hear someone scream in the distance. "You! Stay away from my fucking boyfriend!"


End file.
